Long Train of thought Poems
Long Train of thought Poems. Below are the most popular long Train of thought by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Train of thought poems by poem length and keyword.
Seven times, I’ve been told
That I take wing when I am bold
I take footsteps towards heaven
I fake a smile times seven eleven
I told ya seven times
I was up all night,
Counting tons of dimes
Boy, what a sight!
Seven eleven comes to mind
Words in my head I can’t find
I’m blind with tears in my eyes
I overheard your secret lies
It lies within my heart
The moment it tears me apart
Seven times, I’ve been told
That I take wing when I am bold
I take footsteps towards heaven
I fake a smile times seven eleven
Midnight crawls into my brain
I’ve lost my train of thought
Wondering if I’m still sane
I guess that I have forgot
Seven times, I’ve been told
That I take wing when I am bold
I take footsteps towards heaven
I fake a smile times seven eleven
My soul cries to the grave
My mind is a puzzling maze
My heart is solemn and brave
I’m going through yet another phase
Seven times, I’ve been told
That I take wing when I am bold
I take footsteps towards heaven
I fake a smile times seven eleven
Don’t worry about a thing,
For you are my everything
So, let it go
Let it go
Let it all go
The wind moves to and fro
To and fro
To and fro
Set me free
Set me free
Leave me be
Set me free from captivity
Free me from wretched reality and fulfill my fantasy
Form:
Sympatico dreaming
I wonder do you keep the stars
Awake at night
While dancing in the shadows
By moonlight
Seducing the wind
With sensuous rhythms
To help keep you
in flight
The sound of your breathing
Covers the air in whispers
Changing
Water into wetness
With
Fluid dreams of
Your hidden desires
Coming down like
Thunder and lighting
While flying through the air
In the pouring rain
Wearing your halo on
backwards
Sliding under the cover
Of darkness
Nimble fingers like
The wings of a feather
Drawing circles around
The psyche that leaves a
Train of thought back
To you
I wonder do you keep the stars
Awake at night
Dancing in the shadows
By moonlight
Peeking in on other
Realms in existence
Free falling like you
Mastered
Quantum physics
The ability to come and
Go as you please
Stardusted memories
Not founded in reality
But held captive and
Suspended
weightless
Floating on
Dreams and sympathy
Only to face the morning
And nothing is as it seems
Just a vague sense of you
Flying with wings
I wonder do you keep
The stars awake at night
While dancing in the
Shadows
By moonlight
What Poetry Soup means to this old duffer
Now let me see where do I begin
First of all, the very first thing I do each morning
Is to log on to the site and check out who's there
Now that's even before my first cup of java
Next I post usually two of my most recent poems
I can't seem to type fast enough these days
Don't want to lose my train of thought
Then it's coffee time and I hurry back to check out my inbox
And what do I find... others obsessed poets just like me
First thing every morning and last thing every night
Obsessed? Possibly! Worried? Not a bit!
It's a lot better than running amuck through the streets
Three cheers for Poetry Soup
And all the warm friendly people residing here!
© Jack Ellison 2014
It’s hours after midnight
I’m as high as a kite tonight
It’s foggy outside – oh, what a sight
And you’re all alone, picking a fight
With the shadows and meadows of my mind’s eye
I’m on fire in your icy frame of mind I can’t deny
And I lost my train of thought
All my efforts and struggles daily are all for naught
But, my terrible battles are fought
By the willpower and stoutness I got
It’s hours after sunrise
There are tears of tension in your eyes
I don’t know why I cry
And I won’t let you die
I’m taking a break at the river’s bed today
I dry the tears away and I have no words to say
I’m walking down
Sorrow Town…Sorrow Town…
I’m talking aloud
In the crowd…in the crowd…
Isolation calls my name
It burned away my flame
It caught me victim like game
My spirits aren’t exactly tame
I’m caught in the shrouds of clouds
Where I silently scream
I also silently beam in low self-esteem
Whistling the blues
Weeping in my muse
Sick of the constant abuse
Without the energy to search for hidden clues
I see straight lines in your eyes
After the lows, there are happy highs
I’m walking down Sorrow Town
And I’m going down, down, down
Till I can’t go any further
I’m going under for sure
I catch a glimpse of you in a blur
These tribulations I will endure
I’ve lived a life in the darkness, I have felt it’s pain,
all the sorrows, hurts, and anger, pouring down like rain.
Un-forgiveness, wrath, and vengeance, a plate that I served best,
it was all about me, I forget about the rest.
Do unto other’s, before they do unto you,
a motto that I held so dear, and true.
All the things that people had done to me,
I turned and gave it out so free.
How it made me feel good, it covered my pain,
as I stood there in the darkness, hell did rein.
I became the darkness, from the shadows of my heart,
like a demon of revenge, I did play the part.
When the truth, shined it’s light, for my eyes to see,
the demons of the darkness, growing inside of me.
With shackles and chains, the weight of my soul,
the light came in, with stories of freedom untold.
The battle had started, but I was to blind to see,
the prisoner chained in the darkness, was me.
With the light of truth, and blood staines on my hand,
the darkness in this world,
where we make our final stand.
The battle is mine, with a train of thought,
with the blood on my hands, I had been bought.
Redemptions story, God is alive and well,
if you live in the darkness, it will take you through hell.
Through the fires burning, to make all things anew,
so we can walk in the light, and be those things, thats true.
Am I dreaming
or have I dreamt myself awake
I can’t seem to discern
between real and fake
What’s right
What’s wrong
which direction
should I take
Am I reasonably responsible
for the many mistakes I might make
Backward bouncy walking
Crazy ticketed talking
Following the run
in a pretty girls stocking
Unafraid of anything
Willing to do what’s shocking
Sarcastically mocking
Listening to head voices
My brain has lost it’s sane
my body’s rocking
My mind skipping
from Idea to Idea
You weren’t there a second ago go
but now I see you
Wait a second
I can see right through you
Black isn’t white
Yellow is now blue
Bending over
To take a boulder
out of my shoe
They were old yesterday
and now they’re new
But instead of one pair
I’m wearing out two
The room is shaking
Momma’s in the kitchen
Half baked
Pieces of everything
Tender flaked
The tiles under my feet
vibrate to the beat
Hey momma
“Trick or Treat?
Give me something good to eat”
Suddenly I’m covered by a sheet
on a cold stainless table
being processed like meat
sliding on a rail
Door closed
Fire burning
someone turning up the heat
Bell ringing, ringing, ringing
WAKE UP, Wake up Rick
If only I could
That would be a cool trick!
I feel like I’m being beat with a stick
Shake, shake, shake
“wake up Rick its Eight,
you’re going to be late.”
Get out of bed you fool.
It’s time for school.”
Eyes open, “I‘m up, I’m up!”
But wait
You can’t hear me talk
Because I’m an unwound
broken old clock
no longer able to tick or tock
I only have hands
so I can’t even walk.
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Things that make me go hmm. The second hand of clock or watch is actually the third hand. ;0)
The Tortured Poets Department has a writer's division that has to approve every poem before it goes out
And my mind is tired of being held hostage
A loose-leaf definition of writer's block was once defined by the utter of: I don't feel like writing, this isn't good enough, my hand only works for the remote today
Then she interrupts my train of thought to ask: why have you never wrote a poem about me
It's not that I haven't
There are 100s getting as comfortable as you can be in the waste basket
The last poem I Kobe shot, Melo made, and Curry posed to the trash can started like this:
An eye lash is trying to make your cheek more than just a Sunday service sanctuary
It wants a home
I know you'd like me to remove it
But who am I to destroy a home
I can't help but think how beautiful you look with that eye lash
As it rests there like a pair of doves flirting on a branch not far away from me
What are you starring at, she exclaims
Oh, nothing I reply, today I'll let the eye lash remain
On
Your rosy cheeks, kissed by my dead rose petal lips
Reminding you of the time we went camping and you hated that you smelled the outside
You hated that you smelled like outside
And I kept teasing you but hiking, visualizing, and tenting next to nature is maybe the closest thing to
Falling asleep to your beautiful
Falling asleep to your beautiful
Falling asleep to your gorgeous
Ugh, I can never find the right words to describe a tenth of your gorgeous
And it makes me want to drop dead out of frustration
Because the writers need to feel exactly what I do when they read:
Holding her hand is to get a glimpse of forever before I die
Holding her makes my heart resemble the flight of a butterfly
Holding her hand is to hold my battles in the palm of my hand and make them cry
The writers consist of a delicious various assortment of personality; often referred to as me, myself, and I
Every time I get ready to seal this poem to you the writer’s block me from letting you receive it
p.s. I haven't learned to love myself enough to love you...
Lost in a sugar-coated lullaby
Lost in a bloody reverie…
Losing control…I lost my train of thought
Watch out – I will hunt you down like game…I’ll watch you rot
But, I will remain downright distraught
I yawn non-stop
As I awaken from my solitary cave…
You’re sleeping beneath the surface – you are unique and brave
You are beautiful and strong
You are sharp and headstrong
I want you to know that I love you so…
I want you to reap what you sow…
Reap what you sow, you know?
Chorus: You are my saving grace
You traced tranquility on my lips
Behind closed doors, there are secrets to unfold
Find your way out of your own maze
You can’t save me this time
Find the energy to run the extra mile
Find the strength to say goodbye sooner or later
Later for now…let me sway away…let me flutter away
Think on me…think of me…
Believe in me…reflect on me…
You’re sleeping beneath the surface
I owe you an apology? You say ‘sorry’ first – say it to my face
I must be dreaming – pinch me please…
Put my worrisome, saddened soul and anxious heart at ease
But, no one can mend these scars from deep within…
I’m falling victim to this one hideous sin….
But, you make me feel great day in and day out (I feel no regret…I don’t feel all
that upset)
Please don’t stop the rhythm of our hearts, beating as one…where have you
been?
We belong with each other…we were meant for each other no doubt (my
mind’s not piling up with excessive debt)
Where are you going? Are you drowning in your pain? Do you wish to drive it
all away?
Do you just wish you could make it disappear out of nowhere? I long for the
Lord’s accord – someday, that day will come and repair our heartbroken hearts
that once consumed dismay and wept with frustration and disarray
passengers gather while their turn awaits
very few standing out
except for one, sprawling along my seat
room for me, just about
awkward two-handed pillow cupping head
beyond waking, no doubt
long brown trench-coat, boot soles with rugged tread
next train ! should I nudge him ?
needful resting or chemical stupor
not for me to judge him
why interfere ? his world, his well-earned dreams
very hard to budge him
startled, distracted, nearly miss my call!
still he is not shifting
urgent rush on-board, his image fading
sit back, eyes uplifting
spy those familiar curls, grey wooly hat
conversation drifting
earwigging, eavesdropping across the aisle
their words come and go
tune-in and filter out the ambient
expose their to-and-fro
they are other people, not my business
but still I want to know!
his mature companion, black-haired beauty
she smiles, ten years older
for them, no others on their train of thought
like coinciding spheres
bodies tilt towards overlapping touch
as space between them clears
carriage swaying to their sound, back and forth
they listen intently
animated, probing his next response
she lectures him gently
university trends, what does he seek?
he replies attently
predator woman and willing victim
marooned oblivious
to those furtive glances, the flapping ears
attuned assiduous
audience pleasured, unfolding theatre
cocooned delirious
rails switch, clickety-click, clickety-clack
asks his destination
the one just coming but then no surprise
no procrastination
they stay together with no track of time
end-of-the-line station
reality tears, they remain enthralled
their mobiles uploaded
walk on by, lowered voices on the cusp
demeanour encoded
then lost in the crowd, I wish them both well
destiny railroaded
Ineptness / Ineptitude
The pen has become the tongue from which I speak.
Ink, the saliva, the driving force behind my words.
Paper, the wings upon which they take flight,
uplifting my thoughts, elevating my ideas.
Thoughts and ideas that might not have
– ever come out of my mouth – seen the light of day.
Grounded !, nothing taking wing, a voice that does not sing,
never expressing a thing, with any kind of proficiency,
clarity, depth of understanding, enlightenment of meaning,
as I stand before ?, choke up !, all coming to a screeching halt
– my train of thought, my boxcar of words end with the caboose.
All gets lost, before the moment lives, my death !!!
The death of all I set out to accomplish, but never doing.
This, my tribunal ???:
B. J. “A” 2
February 25th 2004